The Bottom of Things
by outtabreath
Summary: An ode to Dat Bum. After Tony is injured in a freak  but minor - and offscreen  accident, Pepper has to care for him. Warning: Lots of discussion of a certain fantastic behind - but nothing graphic.


Written because...well, RDJ/Tony Stark's butt _deserves_almost 5000 words.

I don't own Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, any of the characters, or Tony Stark's butt.

Thanks to my fantastic betas: Miss Steph/foodygoody and Spockside.

Finally, I did research on burns/burn care and then cheerfully ignored it all - so, warning for very dodgy and completely made-up medical care.

~*~_**The Bottom of Things** by outtabreath_~*~

"Mr. Stark will be fine," Dr. Millis announces as he steps from Tony's bedroom.

I sag slightly against the wall, more relieved than I would be willing to admit to anyone. Rhodey looks at me, grinning, and has the temerity to say, "Told you so."

"Shush," I say warningly, "I still blame you for this."

Happy smiles and he casts Rhodey a triumphant look.

"_Both _of you," I clarify; Happy's face falls slightly.

"Ha!" Tony chortles from his bedroom.

"And especially you, Tony," I shoot back. "I swear, you three are _adults_, I should be able to leave you alone for longer than ten minutes."

"Rhodey dared me," Tony shouts, sounding offended.

I look to Jimmy - the only one of the three of them I ever thought had any _sense_; he shrugs. "He said he could walk on hot coals - what was I supposed to do?"

"Not dare him to do it, not help him set up the coal walk," I shoot back. "You _know _how he is."

"I almost made it," Tony adds loudly. "I want credit for that."

"No!" I shout back.

"The coals weren't that hot," Dr. Millis adds helpfully. "The burn wasn't that bad. It's barely a first-degree. If he follows my orders, he should heal up in no time."

"Luckily," I say, nodding at the only sane man in the house. I then cast my gaze at the small band of idiots in the hallway with me and raise my voice so the idiot in the bedroom can hear me clearly. "I'm blocking The Discovery Channel."

"It's just Discovery Channel," Happy dares to say over Tony's huff. "There's no 'the.'" His voice dwindles away as I glare him into submission.

"Mr. Stark will need to stay on his stomach overnight," Dr. Millis interrupts. "No pressure on the affected area until tomorrow morning, and then nothing but loose clothing for the next five days. I need you to watch for signs of infection - oozing, swelling, pain, redness or fever."

"I thought you said it was barely a first-degree burn," I point out, my stomach lurching unpleasantly.

"Oh it is," he says reassuringly; I vaguely wonder if they teach Doctor Voice in medical school. "As long as Mr. Stark doesn't," he pauses, "_aggravate_ it."

"No," I vow. "There will be no aggravating of anything. Other than my nerves. He's good at _that_."

I ignore the indignant sputter from the bedroom.

"And," Dr. Millis continues, pressing a tube into my hand, "this needs to be applied to the burn two times a day for the next three days. "

I nod gravely, proving that I understand the seriousness of the situation, until the instructions lodge themselves into my brain.

Watch for. Applied.

_Oh God!_ I was having enough difficulty keeping my hands off of him as it was - I had no idea what I'd do if I _had_to touch him - touch that superlative ass twice a day - look at it, stroke it, minister to it.

Something highly unprofessional, no doubt.

"No!" I protest, shaking my head vehemently. "I can't do that. We'll get a nurse."

"What'll she look like?" Tony asks, sounding too excited for someone with an almost-first-degree burn on his right buttock. "I want her to wear one of those candy striper outfits."

"No," I respond. "She'll be in scrubs and two weeks away from retirement."

Happy chuckles and I narrow my eyes at him.

"I can work with that," Tony chirps as my BlackBerry vibrates in my hand. I glance down at the caller ID, surprised to see Phil Coulson's name pop up. With great foreboding, I answer.

"No unauthorized personnel in Mr. Stark's home," he says by way of greeting.

"How? But?"

"SHIELD takes Mr. Stark's safety very seriously, Ms. Potts," he continues. "His house must remain a secure location. No nurses."

"Agen-," I begin.

"Have a nice evening," he says brightly before hanging up the phone.

I shove the phone into my pocket and turn my focus on Tony's partners in jackassery. Neither of them will meet my eyes.

"Happy," I say, "Jimmy."

"No!" Tony bellows. "No dudes! Pepper, please!"

I lean around the door; Tony is lying on his belly amidst a sea of pillows, the golden arc of his ass rising above the fabric. I take a very deep breath and tear my eyes away from that beautiful, beautiful behind and meet his huge brown eyes.

"Please," he says again, lips pouty and full. "I need you, Pepper. Please."

I sigh and stare at the tube of ointment. Dr. Millis pats my hand gently. "Put that on first thing in the morning and keep an eye on him."

"Don't I always?" I ask helplessly.

X_X_X_X_X

"Are you going to stand there all day?" Tony asks cheerfully. He's lying on his belly, the right side of his face pressed into his pillow, his eyes heavy-lidded and sultry.

My eyes jerk from his face to where the gray sheets skim down the back of his thighs and do absolutely nothing to cover up his ass."Thinking about it," I say.

He wiggles his butt_ - wiggles it - _and smiles slowly at me. "It's just skin, Potts. Charred and painful skin."

"I know that," I say with much more bravado then I feel, because it's not just skin. It's Tony's ass - two delectable mounds of flesh that are higher and rounder and firmer than they've ever been, two delectable mounds of flesh attached to a man who is more focused and moral and adorable than _he's _ever been.

I am in very big trouble.

"Ouch," he says slowly, pushing his lips - and yes, they are bow-like and very pink and damned delectable too; I know this all too well - slowly through the letters, keeping those lips in a perfect, pouting O. "I'm in pain here, Potts, and you have the remedy in those petite fingers."

"Fine, you big baby," I say, steeling myself and striding into his bedroom. "But you have no one to blame but yourself for this whole thing."

"Yes, I do," he disagrees, pushing himself up on his elbows so he can peer back at me as I settle onto the mattress near his knees. I keep my gaze fixed on the tube. _Aloe Vera. Analgesic. Apply to affected area._

"Don't say Happy and Jimmy," I say, opening the tube and squeezing some of the ointment onto my fingers. It's oily and thick and smells surprisingly pleasant. "You were the one who wanted to go fire walking."

"Coal walking," he corrects me. "And I totally could've done it if Happy hadn't distracted me."

I look at his face. "How did Happy distract you?"

"He said that he should film it so you could see it. I got distracted and my foot slipped and down I went."

"And why would that distract you?"

"I could picture your face when you saw the video."

I grimace. "It would've looked like this."

"No," he parries, opening his eyes widely and adopting a soft, reverent expression, "you would've looked like this."

"I've never looked like that," I point out.

"But I can imagine it, Pepper. Oh, I can imagine it."

I narrow my eyes, then focus on the burn. It's pink and shiny, the skin around it golden. I swallow heavily. "Okay, here goes. It's probably going to sting."

"I'm tough," he says, releasing his arms and flopping down face first. The muscles of his back move smoothly beneath acres of skin and the muscles of his ass flex. I want to grab a hold of them and squeeze and rub and….

"Potts," Tony says. I look up at him dumbly. He's craned his head up and over his shoulder and is grinning smugly at me. "You've kinda got that look right now."

"Hardly," I lie baldly. "I was just trying to figure out how a genius can be so very dumb sometimes." Before he can answer, I press my finger against the burn, gently, and start to rub. His ass is taut and springy and the skin is smooth and soft and….

_Such _big trouble_._

_X_X_X_X_X_

The sounds of gunfire and shrieking meet me as I straggle my way back to Tony's. I am going to kill him. _Kill him_. I can picture him sitting up, playing video games with Rhodey and, no doubt, completely reinjuring himself. I'm going to be stuck applying cream to his ass every day for the rest of my life.

Which is a bad thing, I remind myself, severely, _a bad bad thing_.

"Stop it, Tony," Rhodey protests as I enter the living room to find Tony stretched out on the couch, on his belly, chest propped up on a veritable mound of pillows. Rhodey has dragged a chair in from one of the bedrooms and has his feet propped on the coffee table, his face crinkled with concentration.

"Don't hate," Tony laughs in response, fingers clicking the controller madly. "Some of us are just naturally gifted."

"You memorize the cheat codes," Jimmy complains. "Hi, Pepper."

"Boys," I respond. "I hate to interrupt the male bonding, especially since it doesn't involve fire…."

"Coals," they chime in unison despite obviously being distracted by killing Nazis.

"But I've got to put Tony's medicine on," I continue, grabbing the tube out of my bag.

Tony smirks and Rhodey's face falls into horrified lines. He bolts to his feet. "Just gonna get a drink, okay? Pepper, you want one?"

I shake my head and he bolts from the room. I wish I could follow him.

"So," Tony says, dropping the controller and shoving at his clothes. "Back again, I see. Can't keep away from me."

"Of course," I say gamely and not untruthfully.

"I knew it," he smirks, waiting for me to bend over him and inspect the burn.

"It's healing well," I decide.

"I have been following orders," he points out.

"Want some chips?" Rhodey shouts from the kitchen.

"No," I reply, rubbing the cream into Tony's skin and very pointedly ignoring how nicely Tony's ass curves into his legs and how neatly my fingernails would fit into the perfect crease where cheek meets thigh.

"Yes!" Tony yells. "And ice cream."

"You'll make yourself sick," I tell him, standing up and recapping the tube.

"And you'll take care of me," he notes, pulling his pants back up and resettling. "Right?"

"All clear," I yell. I need Jimmy back in the living room, his presence reassuring and comforting.

I'd never, ever jump on Tony in front of Rhodey.

Rhodey brushes by me, arms full of junk food and soda.

"Potts?" Tony's face is soft and open, like he doesn't even notice that we're no longer alone.

I swallow heavily. "I'll always take care of you," I say reassuringly.

He smiles brightly and I admit to myself that I would totally jump Tony in front of Rhodey.

X_X_X_X_X

"I don't understand how that happened," Tony says again. He looks slightly ridiculous, spread out horizontally on the bed, propped on his side between two pillows, gesturing wildly even though I am the only person that can see him.

"I told you to use the latest specs," he says into the phone, eyes fixed on the TV hanging on the wall - presently showing video from a test of the latest Stark invention gone wrong. Luckily no one was hurt, but it has put back our Green Initiative a few months. Not exactly the best way to start the morning.

"No," he says, voice trembling with anger. "No. No no no."

The alarm on my BlackBerry chirps and I grab up the medicine tube with one hand. He frowns at me and pushes at the pillows and then at his pants. I move to kneel behind him, taking over and pulling down his pants carefully, exposing the burn. I look at it, check for infection and carefully spread the ointment on him as he continues to tremble with rage and speak in that low, barely contained voice. My fingers slow and stop as I can clearly picture myself lying down behind him, spreading those luscious globes and doing…exceptionally dirty things - things no proper, well brought up woman is supposed to ever, ever think about.

"Jarvis," Tony says, his hand securely over the receiver of the phone and his head tipped towards the ceiling, "Pull up every memo I sent on the prototype in the last month."

I blink and take a deep breath, pushing down every forbidden desire and pulling my eyes away from the way the cheeks of his ass curve away from his body perfectly even with him on his side.

I yank his clothes up which earns me a _look _and a mouthed "ouch."

"Sorry," I mouth back. "Water?"

He stares at me evenly for several seconds, reading my face; I stare back, implacably.

He blinks first, shaking his head before returning to his call. I get off the bed and walk into the bathroom. I wash my hands and my face and breathe deeply once, twice, three times, before returning to him.

He's clutching his phone tightly in one hand and typing on his laptop with the other, and saying, "That's not right. No, not that either. No. Yes. Yes, now you're seeing it."

I settle in a chair and focus on my own computer and don't think about that incredible ass, or the equally incredible man attached to it, for another second.

Mostly.

X_X_X_X_X

"Dr. Millis told you to stay off of it," I say from the doorway of the workshop. Again. It's a sentence I've said a dozen times since the failed test.

"I have been," Tony protests in response. "See, half my ass is hanging off the chair, Pepper. I needed to do this - I had a brainstorm and if I don't work on it, I'll lose it - I've got to correct the issues with the prototype."

I sigh and toss the tube of medicine onto the table next to his elbow and lean against the edge, mere inches away from him; he continues pecking away at the keyboard.

"Ten more seconds," he murmurs. "Twenty. A minute."

"I'd like to go home," I say pointedly.

"Why? It's more fun here."

"Sure," I muse, "Watching eccentric, coal-walking geniuses work on logarithms is much more fun than relaxing in my bathtub with a glass of wine and my Kindle."

"I have a bathtub," he says, fingers slipping from the keys as he turns to face me. "And I could read books to you. _Love's Burning Loins _is downloadable, isn't it?"

"I don't read romance novels," I correct him, snapping my fingers and tugging on his elbow. "I read biographies." And romance novels, sometimes. "Up, Iron Man."

"Bossy," he purrs. "I love it."

I wrinkle my nose in feigned distaste, refusing to think for a _second_about how that purr affects me, in parts of my body that fill with blood and get tingly and stupid.

"How do you want me?" he asks creamily. "Ask and you shall receive."

"Quiet," I say briskly. "And healed so I don't have to do this anymore."

He chuckles softly and spins to drape himself over the monitor, covering the dense lines of code he'd been working on. "Jarvis, no pictures. Even if Miss Potts asks nicely."

"I don't want pictures," I grind out, staring at the ceiling. I don't need them. My memory is more than enough.

He scoffs, is quiet, then says, "Okay."

I glance down. He's pushed the sweatpants and oversized boxers down over the small of his back, the commas of his hips, the pert curve of his ass, the…I pull myself together, and look the wound over - it's healing nicely - unscrew the cap and start to apply to the affected area.

Tony whimpers.

I slow my fingers. "Am I hurting you?"

"Hurting me?" he asks, voice slipping along my spine like silk. "Not at all."

I goggle at him, my eyes slipping to the shadowy area between his legs - not sure if I want to see what's possibly going on there.

"Keep rubbing, Potts," he prompts. "Slowly."

My fingers are shaking, but I refuse to acknowledge it. I can get through this and go home to my bubbles and alcohol and biography of Marie Antoinette. I rub the cream in briskly and he presses back into my fingers.

"Tony," I say warningly. My fingers itch for more sensation, more skin. I want to nibble across his ass, want to leave teeth marks in that expanse of springy muscle.

"Pepper," he says, voice dropped low.

"Done," I announce, reeling back slightly from the tempting flesh and the even more tempting man.

"Yes," he murmurs, tugging his pants back up and spinning to face me, "and a good job, too."

I keep my eyes fixed over his shoulder - worried that if I look down I'll see something that will make me lose control completely.

"Potts," he says softly, lurching forward slightly and grabbing my clean hand. I tense immediately and there is a moment of pushing and pulling in which I try to retrieve my hand and Tony hangs onto it tenaciously. The tug-of-war ends with my hand being pressed to his lips. He smiles at me in a manner best described as gentle and says, "Thank you for this. I know it wasn't what you signed up for."

I stand still and let the sparks run down my arm, my head nodding stupidly. "It's okay," I babble. "Really. It's my job. I guess. I mean, I do lots of things for you and this is just another one. Right? Right. Well," I finally grab my hand back and retreat a step, "Home."

He looks me up and down, reading me, and quirks an eyebrow. I want to nibble on it. Suck on it. Bite it gently. And not so gently.

"You can stay here," he says again. "I have lots of bathtubs and a Jacuzzi and I can read to you."

"No, thank you," I decline politely.

He clears his throat, a thoroughly mischievous light firing in his eyes. When he starts…speaking, reciting, driving me crazy, his voice is deep and resonant - the perfect voice for reading out loud, for saying _things _into ears in the deep, liquid night: "Helena, that beguiling and ravishing redheaded temptress, didn't hate Alexander, she wanted him - wanted him like a woman wants a man - thoroughly and completely - wanted to get lost in him over and over again. His deep brown hair and eyes had ensnared her totally. She was helpless to resist him." Tony trails off and grins. He is tempting and testing and I will _not give in_.

"Enough," I scoff through supreme effort and the exercise of extraordinary will power. "I don't read romance novels - though I'm starting to wonder about you seeing as how you've seemingly got the language down. I'm reading Fraser's biography of Marie Antoinette."

"Frisky French queens frolicking in the countryside?" he grins, "Sounds good. Sign me up."

"Home," I say slowly, convincing myself as much as him. "Gotta get home." I shake my head, clearing the fog somewhat. "I'll see you tomorrow and don't sit on the burn too much, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," he smirks. "Have a good night." He's turning towards the computer again, settling carefully on the chair, making sure his injured cheek dangles off the seat.

I want nothing more than to cup it in my hand, feel it tense against me while I kiss his temple, his eyebrow, his neck.

I'm never going to make it.

X_X_X_X_X

In the decade I've worked for him, I've seen Tony asleep countless times. Passed out on his back, naked and, variously, covered in strippers, actresses and wet t-shirts. Face first against a monitor in the workshop. Fast asleep sitting up in the back of the hot rod. On TMZ.

I've never seen him fully dressed, on his belly and curled around a pillow in his own bed.

It's ridiculously charming.

My feet lurch forward and I sit next to him, the traitorous fingers of my right hand pushing unruly curls away from his face as the obedient fingers of my left clutch the ostensible reason for my being here.

Tony snuffles and rubs his face into the pillow before turning bleary eyes on me.

"What time did you go to sleep?" I ask gently.

"I don't know," he slurs. "Midnight? One?"

"An hour ago, Miss Potts," Jarvis says helpfully.

"Narc," he murmurs. "You know Miss Potts worries. Why would you say that?"

"She asked," Jarvis replies, sounding rather put out.

"I need to check you," I remind Tony, finally gaining control of my unruly hand and moving it from his soft hair to my knee.

"Mmmm. Looking forward to it." He makes a weird squinting face.

"What's that?" I demand. "What are you doing?"

"Wiggling my eyebrows at you," he answers, his eyes closed and breathing slowing. "Lasciviously."

"Go back to sleep," I prompt. "I'll take care of this."

"Love when you take care of me," he whispers. "My Potts. Tired."

My heart stutters and I reach out and start rubbing his arm. I'm at a loss.

He snuffles and nods and goes back to sleep. It's like magic.

I indulge my unruly hormones and my uncontrollable heart for several long minutes, allowing myself the pleasure of watching him sleep - safe and sweet - before I tell myself to pull it together.

I tug gently at the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling them out and away from his skin. Sometime in the last twelve hours, he's lost the underwear.

Tony going commando is unbelievably sexy.

_Tony _is unbelievably sexy.

I glance at his face, where it's turned to the room, one stubbly cheek pressed into the pillow, the other tempting me to kiss, to trace with tongue and fingers.

I settle for fingers. Gently follow the outline of his beard, the swing of his cheekbone. He grunts and makes a snuffling sound and I jerk my fingers back. Shocked at myself. I'm here to provide medical care for my boss, not molest a sleeping man.

Not molest a sleeping, gorgeous man with a _rocking _body and an ass designed by angels. Brilliant, generous, _horny _angels.

An ass that is marked by a swiftly healing, but still slightly pink, burn.

I grimace and open the tube with greater ferocity than it deserves. I squeeze and dab and rub and stare and think…think about laying down on top of him, pressing him into the bed, my face nuzzling into the fine hairs at the back of his neck - about nipping and sucking where his neck flairs into his shoulders - about moving slowly, pressing myself in short, tight circles against the hard, rounded muscle….

"Feels good," Tony mumbles, still asleep, oh God let him be still asleep. "Pepperrrrrrrr."

I take my licentious fingers off his ass and lean forward so I can get a good look at his face. Its lines are relaxed and he's drooling slightly.

He's definitely still asleep.

I need to get the hell out of here.

X_X_X_X_X

"Hey!" Tony says, shuffling past me on his way from the kitchen, bowl of chips in one hand, a beer in the other. He's wearing sweatpants, a bathrobe and nothing else. "Where've you been all day? Last I remembered you were sitting next to me and then," he swings his shoulders up and I cannot help but notice that the pecs framing the RT are pretty spectacular, "a Pepper-free house. I figured out what went wrong with the prototype. Rhodey won't come play with me and you've been gone all day." He emits a martyred sigh and heads towards the living room. I helplessly clutch the almost empty tube and contemplate throwing it at him and fleeing.

Except.

I am Pepper Potts and I do not flee from Tony Stark. No, I stand my ground and suppress every inappropriate desire and ignore the fact that he is amazing and sexy and that I, obviously, cannot keep my hands off his ass.

I am not an animal. I can _restrain myself_. At least for the next five minutes.

"Busy," I say finally, following him into the living room. He's ditched the bathrobe and despite the fact that he's lying on his side and eating chips out of a bowl resting on the floor, he is incredibly appealing.

Damn it.

"Doing what?"

"What?"

"What've you been so busy doing, Pepper?" He puts a chip in his mouth and chews it methodically. He's staring at me and it's disconcerting and hot. And his chest is right there and the delectable curves of his backside are pressing against the couch cushions and I could walk over there and touch all of him.

_Damn it_.

"Pepper?" he asks again. Another chip goes into that lickable mouth.

"Work," I finally say, proud that I'm able to form syllables. Syllable.

"Work?"

"Yeah. I work. You know. Doing work things. At work."

"At Stark Industries," he grins.

"Yeah. I work at Stark Industries. I have medicine." I hold it out in front of me.

It's at that moment that I realize I really have lost my mind.

"You want to put the medicine on me, Pepper?" He asks this slowly, sultrily.

"I'm supposed to." I'm still operating on half a brain - have been for the last three days - longer, really, since Tony came home, changed. I want nothing more than to feel him press down into me, to feel the muscles flex under my hands as he moves inside me. I want to squeeze and rub and pull him closer, deeper.

I want.

He slides off the couch in a movement that should look absolutely ridiculous but serves only to further entice me.

Somehow, I end up kneeling on the floor beside him as he stares at me expectantly.

"I'm not another notch on your bedpost," I say firmly.

"Never."

I push at his pants and he squirms his way out of them.

"And I don't want this to be a one-time thing."

"Me, either."

I run a fingernail over the burn gently; he shivers in a good way.

"We will talk about this."

"Incessantly, no doubt," he grins, grabbing the medicine from me and tossing it towards the fireplace. "I don't need that anymore. You've healed me."

"I really didn't," I disagree as I slip out of my clothes; he watches me, eyes glazed and appreciative.

"Never underestimate your power over me," he says as he neatly pulls me down and rolls on top of me. Suddenly he is more serious than I've ever seen him.

Any last second doubts are bludgeoned into submission by that look. I don't even think before I kiss him - I've been thinking for a decade and I'm _done_.

His mouth and my mouth together are like fireworks and Christmas lights and campfires - everything that is hot and sparkling and wonderful.

And his eyes, when we finally stop kissing long enough to look at each other again, are slightly stunned but his smile is delighted.

I answer with bright eyes and determination. This is good. This is right. We are _not stopping_.

He sucks in a deep breath and nods firmly before saying, "Okay then."

I lift an eyebrow and curve my hands over his ass - ready to rub and squeeze and pull and _learn_.

He laughs, a sound of pure delight, and says, "Hang on tight, Potts."


End file.
